


Abyss of Winter

by BaronVonRiktenstein



Category: Adventure Time, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Apocalypse, Before Ooo, Crossover, Gen, Nations dying, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronVonRiktenstein/pseuds/BaronVonRiktenstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world, and Russia's among those struggling to survive. Meanwhile, Simon's fighting off insanity and loneliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ivan

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before season 5 of Adventure Time started, so there are definite continuity errors. That being said, I do hope to finish this in spite of that deterrent.

     The air of the night was frigid, and not a star could be seen in the wasteland that had been his home. The world had been hit with a meteor and plunged into a war almost simultaneously. Nothing could possibly make it out of this apocalypse unscathed.

     Russia – no, he wasn't Russia anymore. The place didn't exist – stared into the foggy sky, a mere shadow of his former self. The other so-called nations were no better off. Even Switzerland and the other famed “neutral” countries weren't spared the disaster. Life on this earth was ending. Humanity would surely be wiped out.

     When the meteor hit, even the most optimistic could not find a silver lining. The catastrophic incident caused the lives of millions, even billions of people. Fellow nations were blown off the face of the Earth. Those that hadn't died from the impact had been severely maimed. There was no plausible way to achieve a good outcome for anyone.

     America's... _Alfred's_ childish optimism shattered quickly and left behind a shell of a man. His sanity deteriorated to the point that he became a babbling mess. All those movies and simulations, he'd said, hadn't even begun to prepare him for something so horrific. It wasn't as if he was surprised at that. He only meant nothing was ever supposed to be this Hellish.

     At some point, to fight off this threat, and for some even each other, there had actually been experiments of modification. The results ranged from mere bio-weaponry to absolute monstrosities and abominations. The living creatures that crawled out of the laboratories were anywhere between pitiful and horrifying. The worst of them had once been human beings that held so little of who they were. Used as instruments of a losing war, many were slaughtered and strewn across a battlefield among their kin. Eventually, just like the humans, the supposed survivors had begun to disappear.

     As for the humans, there were scarcely any left. The fact that some of the nations still held on to existence was the sole indication that there were populations left. But they wouldn't last long. The radiation poisoning the Earth and the ruthless eradication of their kind by the _alien_ army would see to that.

     Throughout all of this, the two that were faring comparatively well were North and South Korea, whose people had been pushing out weapons and mutants, in their hopes to save humanity. They were failing, and even now they were fading away like the rest. Clearly, if anything remained alive after the war cleared, it wouldn't be humanity.

     The only earthly being that may remain, Ivan thought, may be the Seasons. General Winter was going stronger than ever. But with humans disappearing, they too would change in form.

     Ivan's mind wandered as he felt himself withering away. No longer the large mass that he was, and with his people almost entirely wiped out, he felt nearly as a construction of flesh and bone. _How could it possibly have gotten this bad?_ His heart scarcely beat anymore, and he wondered if, perhaps, it had fallen out for good this time. He couldn't tell.

     The chill of the air worsened. He turned his head, looking for something familiar. A part of him hoped for Death. He hated this feeling of worthlessness, this agonizing battle to go on. Yet he was terrified of dying alone. A familiar face, no matter who it was at this moment, or a friendly stranger's face would be calming.

     In the distance, he spotted a silhouette, as the air grew even colder. Perhaps it was his dearest ally coming to see him off. The thought wasn't as terrifying as it had once been. He gathered the energy he could muster, calling out for General Winter, but his voice was far too weak. It was doubtful that anyone could hear him. As long as he could see the shadow, he needed to call for him and continued to try and do so.

     “Winter!” he cried. He heard his voice crack, and wished instead for Death. He had never wanted to be this weak, never wanted to struggle through Earth's end. Most certainly, he never wanted anyone to see him in this state, whoever it was.

     Though his voice couldn't have reached the ears of the silhouette, footsteps approached. They seemed to be running, but Ivan couldn't tell anymore. Despite his wish for death, perhaps he was just hopeful for companionship. Surely, no one was coming to his side. Certainly not Winter. This was not the sound of Winter approaching.

     The cold enveloped him as someone sat beside him, hovering over him. “Winter?” he uttered and tried to open eyes he did not remember closing. But this was not Winter. He seemed like Winter, with gray-white hair and the cold aura surrounding him, but it wasn't him. His beard and broken glasses were enough proof of that. Whoever this man was, Ivan possibly imagined, he seemed an equal mix of relieved and _scared_.

     “Can you hear me?” the man asked with a shaking voice that didn't match his appearance. Ivan wondered how he could sound so strong, alive even. “I'm Simon. What's your name?” the man pressed, urging him to respond with a desperate voice and a trembling hand.

     “Ivan,” he managed to choke out.

     Simon smiled and seemed to say something else that Ivan wasn't quite grasping. Despite the cold of his skin and the air surrounding him, Simon made Ivan feel warm somehow. Warmer, at least, than he had felt in a very long time.

     “I'll take you someplace... safer. Is that okay?” The man hesitated on the word, but perhaps anywhere was better than the outdoors. Ivan nodded, or tried to, and Simon lifted him off the ground. If Ivan hadn't noticed how much he was deteriorating, it was clear now. He'd lost so much of himself that this supposed mortal could pick him up with little effort. Russia used to be so _big_. Now look where he was.

     Simon barely struggled, though his expression suddenly seemed so severe. Maybe it was determination. Before Ivan could think on it, he blacked out for what was at least the sixth time that day.

     When he awoke, Simon was nowhere to be seen. It appeared that the man had carried Ivan to the inside of a run-down building. A toy store, perhaps, though it was hard to tell in the scarce light. All Ivan could gather was that something plush was resting on his stomach, and a weathered cloth was folded beneath his head.

     Although Simon could not be seen, a voice could definitely be heard. Ivan hoped that it was his. What he was saying couldn't be understood. The subject matter didn't really matter to Ivan anyway. All that he could decipher was an utter desperation.


	2. Simon

Simon Petrikov had once been a man with so much going for him, with a happy life ahead of him. He was growing fairly famed as an antiquarian upon the discovery of an ancient book and coveted jewels. He had an intelligent, loving, and beautiful fiancee named Betty. Even without his growing status in the field of archeology, he had found perfection and joy in his beloved princess.

Everything changed when he found that damned crown.

He never learned what he'd done to drive Betty away, with that look of contempt and fear in her eyes. He agonized over it for what must have been months, to no avail. Honestly, he had no grasp of time anymore. In his depression, he locked himself away from the world, trying desperately to fight off this madness that antagonized him at every waking moment.

When clarity found him again, the world was not as he remembered it. Through readings and looped radio signals, and small hints in those video diaries he kept, he found that there had been a war. How he could have blocked out something so severe, so life changing, he couldn't explain. There it was, clear as day, that he'd lost track of the world around him. Homes were destroyed, friends he had had once upon a time were missing, or rather _dead._

Simon knew that the magic of the crown had spared him the same fate. He sorely wished it hadn't. Alone in the world now, he was left to stew in the madness that only festered as time went on. He hoped, silently, that maybe Betty found safety somewhere. He supposed it was an impossible wish, but it was all he had to cling to. Death wouldn't find him naturally, so he had to fight for something to keep a hold on his mind as he continued on.

Knowing that he couldn't stave off the madness sitting alone in the wasteland that was now his home, he set out. As of yet, there was no indication that there were any more survivors, but he'd seen a lot of movies. If there were survivors, they wouldn't be loitering about in broad daylight doing nothing. Maybe, if he was lucky, he wasn't the only person left. Pushing back the nagging thoughts, he ushered himself onward. False hope was better than nothing right now. He'd take it.

 

Simon couldn't keep track of time. Months, a year could have passed, and he wouldn't know. The voices, the visions in his head served as his only means of companionship, and he hated them. Food was getting harder to come by, but he found he didn't need it nearly as much as he used to. He was pleasantly surprised when, after what felt like the first leap of eternity, he found his first wild animal. There were more and more as time passed, but they were all skittish and deformed. They provided no comfort to him aside from the first indication that mammals had survived this apocalypse.

 

It was just a little while longer before he found a human. Simon wasn't entirely sure, when he spotted the mass in the distance, a lump on the ground. He hesitated, knowing it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. His desperation had grown to astronomical proportions as of late. Still, he ran forward, calling out. He squashed down the fear of insanity when he heard something. The closer Simon got, the more clear it became that that noise was a human voice. He didn't quite understand what this person was calling out, but at the moment it didn't matter.

He dropped to his knees next to the strange man, and his heart dropped. It was clear that the man couldn't possibly survive much longer. The fact that this emaciated creature could still breathe was fascinating. But he knew that whoever this was probably didn't want to die alone. Simon would provide him with company in his dying hours, and it might also serve to keep his mind in check for just a little while. After all... even though this man was dying, he had survived this long. There had to be more somewhere like him.

“Can you hear me?” When he got a slight nod in response, he continued. “I'm Simon. What's your name?”

There came a choked “Ivan.”

Another wave of relief hit Simon. Ivan was at least aware enough to respond to these questions. That was something for now. Deciding on the best way to move the stranger, Simon shifted and offered his arms.

“Don't you worry. Everything's gonna be fine. I'll take you someplace... safer,” he hesitated. Safer wasn't exactly the optimal word, but any shelter would do to stave off the harsh weather. He picked up the man, who Simon just knew must have been an intimidating figure in better days, and frowned. It was clear by looking that Ivan was withering away, but that didn't prepare Simon for how terribly _light_ he was. Simon wasn't a strong man in any sense, and the ease with which he scooped the guy up was terrifying.

He knew he had to move fast, and so without thought he dashed. It would be preferable to find a shelter with windows that weren't broken in, but the likelihood was low. He settled on a superstore he found nearly fifteen minutes later, or so he guessed, and climbed his way in.

His breath caught when he looked at his passenger, and he exhaled when he realized Ivan was still breathing. Simon had no idea if Ivan had been unconscious the whole time, but it seemed likely. It didn't matter, though. He ran to a place on the inner part of the store and set Ivan down, folding up his coat as a makeshift pillow. He'd be damned if the stranger died without some small comfort. He draped his sleeping bag over Ivan and, finding a suitably soft stuffed doll among the scattered mass on the floor, he placed it on the man's chest.

Satisfied for the moment, Simon got up to scavenge the place for better blankets, food, tools, anything he could use. Hopefully the whole place hadn't been looted of valuable items yet. Given the amount of time that had passed since the first bomb dropped, though, it didn't look hopeful.

 

Minutes or hours passed as he searched and he dropped in a corner and sobbed. Even with a new companion, he was alone. The little disparaging voices in his head drove the point home as he argued with them into the night.


End file.
